


Show You Care

by jenistark



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenistark/pseuds/jenistark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will gets a visit from Hannibal in the court house's holding cell following Hannibal's rejected testimony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show You Care

_"Will Graham is, and will always be, my friend."_

A short recess followed Hannibal's rejected testimony; Will was locked up in the court house's holding cell for the duration, with a guard posted at the cell door. He moved his hands gently, hearing the links of the handcuffs' chain slide against one another. He sighed. This was ridiculous. He wasn't an animal. He wasn't a monster.

He could promise that with all the desperation in the world. It didn't change anything. No one cared to hear the pleas of a psychopath. He heard the door to the room open. The guard asked for identification. Will didn't need it; the sound of expensive leather soles against linoleum told him enough.

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter." Will heard a shift of what could conclusively be a plastic ID card. "I would like to have a moment with my patient, if that is not too much to ask."

"I'm sorry, Doctor. My orders are to remain with the prisoner at all times."

"Understandable. Give us ten minutes, that's all I ask." There was another shifting sound, following by a moment of hesitation before the guard opened the door to the cell.

"Ten minutes." Hannibal nodded as the guard went to stand outside the door to the room.

Will felt a note of contempt for civil service. "A bribe. Really?" he asked, eyes flitting up to watch Hannibal step into the holding cell. "A little banal for you, isn't it."

"Sometimes time doesn't allow for perfect elegance," Hannibal replied with an amused smirk.

Will mirrored the expression. "Can I get that in writing?"

Hannibal stopped to stand in front of Will, looking down at him, surveying the bitter wittiness. Will stared back, at Hannibal's shirt collar, his tie, his lips, his perfect hair. The moment should've been awkward, or in some way negative. Will just found himself breathing a little better.

"So much for your great plan," he whispered, feeling a little claustrophobic in Hannibal's gaze, handcuffed and defenseless. Hannibal exhaled softly, kneeling down as Will dropped his stare to the floor.

"The words were still heard. They may not be admissible but certain people cannot unhear what they have heard."

"Are you my friend?"

There was a brightness that shone in Hannibal's eyes following the question that confused Will more than anything else. He knew he understood Hannibal, on a level that he couldn't even tell himself. He could be Hannibal, if he accessed the analytics of his brain deep enough. And there was so much compassion in Hannibal's face. More than there had any right to be.

"I would like you to know that I am."

"What makes you believe I'm your friend?"

"Are you not?"

Will looked in Hannibal's eyes for a brief moment, one that Hannibal drank in. "Why did you come to see me?"

"I wanted to make sure you were doing well. That you had not been discouraged by the dismissal of my testimony."

"Because you're my friend."

"Because I care for you."

Will hated when Hannibal said that. That particular phrasing always caught him off-guard, as if he forgot that people could care for him. It wasn't true. He knew Alana cared for him. Beverly cared about him, in her own way. Even Jack cared.

And yet, in some convoluted way, no one sounded quite as sincere as Hannibal. There were always layers with everyone. Pity. Doubt. Fear. Guilt. Hannibal came with something else, but it wasn't any of those things. And that was different. That was something that pulled at Will in a way that hurt his chest.

"Will? Are you alright?" There was a gentle touch to his knee and Will blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the glisten on his eyes. Hannibal's thumb circled against the inside of his knee in the subtlest of movements and Will was transfixed, lost in a train of thought he couldn't find a way out of.

"How far would you go?" His eyes flicked over to Hannibal's. "To care for me. How long would you bother to care?"

"Your tone suggests no one has ever cared far or long enough."

Will's brow furrowed and he turned his head away, wounded. Hannibal knew where to hit him hardest, with the swiftness of an arrow and the efficiency of a gunshot, whether he meant to or not. And the emotional fragility that came with living in a dingy cell in a mental hospital day in and day out worked its magic on Will as he struggled to hide the few tears he couldn't keep back.

"Will." His name had never sounded so soothing. Hannibal leaned up to Will's face and he could barely hear the gentle inhale; they had let him use his aftershave for the trial. Will turned his head toward Hannibal and they were close enough to brush cheeks, to whisper in each other's ears. But there was nothing to whisper. Nothing that needed to be said. Will would only believe so much. He knew it all already, in his mind. So when Hannibal pressed his lips against his temple, Will had already closed his eyes. He turned his head further, brushing noses, catching Hannibal's lip between his own. He was rougher, more emotional, letting out little noises of someone clinging to comfort, desperate to elicit something from Hannibal.

Hannibal took every drag of teeth, forceful brush of tongue, every bite and pull, and returned them with vigor. His hand slid up Will's leg while the other raked through his curls, pulling his head back. He brought himself up, kneeling on the bench Will sat upon, a leg in between his. His hand moved up to grip the base of Will's neck, holding firmly. Will fought for breath between each attack, his hands struggling against the handcuffs.

Finally Hannibal broke the bond, moving to his neck. Will whimpered, catching his breath between swollen lips. Hannibal didn't bite or bruise, leaving Will sensitive but unmarked. He pulled at the cheap tie just enough and undid the first couple buttons on Will's dress shirt. Will shivered involuntarily as the cold funneled into the open space before Hannibal covered it with his lips. He bit and sucked at Will's chest, dropping a hand to the front of Will's pants, palming the warm bulge. He pulled down the zipper of Will's slacks as he left a couple marks with his lips, leaving Will panting as he watched him with half-lidded eyes.

"I have cared more for you than you are ever likely to know," Hannibal breathed gently against Will's chest. He slipped a hand inside Will's pants, down his briefs, trailing his fingertips along his erection. Will exhaled sharply, both from the caress and the compassion in Hannibal's words. Hannibal wrapped his fingers around Will's length, spreading his precum as it leaked.

His strokes were slow, torturous, and Will let his head fall back against the wall, soft moans edging their way past his lips. "And I will continue to care for you as long as you allow me the opportunity to do so." Will groaned in response, tears trailing from his eyes that he paid no attention to. Hannibal slowly brought up the pace of his strokes and Will's hips writhed with him, desperate to extend the feeling. He touched his forehead against Will's, letting his other hand run through Will's hair. Will shuddered at the sensations and Hannibal kissed Will deeply, swallowing his louder moans with it.

Hannibal pumped Will faster and he could feel himself reaching the brink of orgasm. His moans turned into soft, urgent cries and his hips bucked up to meet Hannibal's rhythm. Hannibal watched Will fight to control himself.

"Come for me, Will. Only for me."

And Will whined, dropping his head to Hannibal's shoulder as he trembled and cried out, coming into Hannibal's hand.

Hannibal kissed Will feather-light on the head, letting him come back to himself as he cleaned his hand with his handkerchief. He zipped up Will' s pants, adjusted his tie and shirt. Will was still panting, not sure of what exactly he let happen. Hannibal stood up, reaching out a hand to tip Will's chin up gently.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Physically, more relaxed."

A smirk. "And mentally?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you trust me any more than before?"

"I trust you to give a damn good handjob." That brought a unexpected smile. Will couldn't help but mirror it.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just have to write out all that unresolved sexual tension in a good quickie. ;)


End file.
